


You wanna make a memory?

by Alice_huhhuhhhu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying Dean Winchester, Cute Castiel (Supernatural), Drunk Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Episode: s10e23 My Brother's Keeper, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, How Do I Tag, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea what I'm doing, Loss, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Memories, One Shot, Protective Castiel, Season/Series 10, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, post-character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_huhhuhhhu/pseuds/Alice_huhhuhhhu
Summary: This fanfiction takes place during the final episode of season 10, right before Dean leaves to see Death. The hunter reflects on his actions of the past weeks and realizes there's only one certain angel he wants to see right now.My first fanfic on this account! I thought I should start by uploading one of my old fics to figure out how stuff works, so here we are.The title is inspired by a Bon Jovi song called '(You Want To) Make A Memory'. I'm bad at titles, the song came up while I wrote this and it fits the general atmosphere of the story.





	You wanna make a memory?

Dean set down his empty glass, absently reaching for the bottle of liquor right next to his bed to pour himself another drink. His vision was blurry, he didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing anymore. Not that he was completely wasted yet, a little drunk, yes, but that was not the problem. The problem was the reason why he was doing this, why he was sitting in his motel room, all by himself, door shut, lights out, consuming unhealthy amounts of alcohol in the middle of the day. Broken glass and the remainings of broken furniture were scattered around the room, but he couldn’t care less about that.

His thoughts were somewhere else, to be more precise, in a certain motel room bath tub…

No. Don’t think about it. Dean emptied the glass in one go, just to desperately suppress the image that was stuck in his head.

Blood, so much blood…

 

A look at the now empty bottle told him that it was probably time to stop drinking uncontrollably. With a deep sigh he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. Not that he would ever admit it, but he felt kind of lonely… and it was his own fault for pushing people around him away.

Not much time had passed since they had burned Charlie’s dead body. To say that he was mad at Sam would be an understatement -hello? No more secrets? -, but slowly he started to regret his harsh tone given the situation and the circumstances. Sam didn’t mean to put her in danger, her death wasn’t entirely his fault, it was a chain of unfortunate incidents nobody could have predicted.

Then there was Castiel. His best friend. The person he punched until he was lying on the ground beneath him, bleeding. He would have killed him. He could have _killed_ the angel, Dean realized with a pained expression, if he hadn’t stopped. He was just about to stab him to death with his own two hands. Sure, he could always blame it on the mark, say that it took control of him and made him do things he didn’t want to do, but this wasn’t about some stupid mark on his arm, Dean decided. It was _him_. Those were his hands that held the blade, those where his hands who used Cas as a punching bag, to put it frankly. All that pent-up frustration, anger and hatred… those were his own emotions, not something the mark had caused.

Last but not least there was his hunting companion Rudy, who, _without a doubt_ , died because of him. He heard himself say “He’s not gonna kill you”, heard himself provoke the vampire further until said creature rammed a knife in the hunter’s chest. Dean cut his head off only seconds after, “rescued” the hostage and just walked outside the door as if nothing had happened. Slowly, he shook his head. He didn’t do his job, he didn’t save anyone, he just sacrificed his partner because of… well, because of what exactly?

“I killed the wrong monster” he muttered, staring at his reflection in the broken mirror across the room that gave him an accusing glance in return.

 

Dean knew he could never bring up the courage to apologize to his brother, and besides, even if he wanted to say sorry now, Sam wouldn’t listen. No, Dean certainly wouldn’t go back now. He ran away, like a teenager would run away from their parents after a fight. He knew it was immature. He knew that he couldn’t escape his responsibilities and he knew that things needed to change. He just wanted a little time to clear his head, to rearrange his thoughts… in fact, he didn’t even know precisely what he was doing at this point. It was all a mess of feelings he wasn’t ready to accept and deal with yet.

He knew he shouldn’t, he _couldn’t_ do what was on his mind at the moment, but there was only one person he wanted to see right now. Generally speaking, he wasn’t even a person. Whatever. There was this hopeful voice in Dean’s head that told him the angel might at least listen to what he had to say, maybe even understand his reasons. Dean wanted to talk to Castiel, even if he was scared to confront him face-to-face just to be disappointed by his reaction.

 

The hunter gave up his half-sitting-half-lying-position on the bed, stood up and closed his eyes. Focussing his thoughts, he ignored all the distracting noises in the background- cars passing by on the highway, people talking outside, a dog barking in the distance- so he could calm down enough to pray to Cas.

“Castiel? Can you hear me?” His voice was shaking for some reason and he tried hard not to sound as insecure as he felt at that moment. “Cas, if you’re there, could you… you know, maybe-“

Dean couldn’t even finish his sentence before he recognized the familiar breeze that announced the angel’s appearance. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring right into Castiel’s deep, blue ones he liked so much. This time, however, they were full of concern when they inspected him from head to toe, searching for any fresh bruises or wounds while completely ignoring the mess on the floor.

“Hello Dean” he finally breathed out, without any trace of emotion. Dean had to look away, he couldn’t stand that observing gaze that seemed to burn right into his soul. Was this a good sign? A bad sign? Whatever it was, the hunter hoped for it to be over soon because he couldn’t stand this awkwardness any longer.

“Hello Cas” he managed to reply, unsure what to say next. “I know I’ve done some pretty messed up things in the past weeks and I’m not exactly proud of that. Look, sorry doesn’t make up for what I did, but I just hoped that you would maybe… I don’t know.” Suddenly he forgot what he wanted to say and fell silent, cursing himself because he just _knew_ this was going to happen. Once he had the chance to properly apologize to Cas, his brain reminded him of his incapability of bringing his feelings across.

 

Dean let his eyelids fall shut once again, he tried his best to form a complete sentence in his head but got completely caught off guard when he felt two strong arms wrap around him. The sudden touch startled him at first, but his body seemed to relax within seconds. “What the hell Cas?” he gasped in surprise, the angel had never hugged him before, he usually respected his demand for “personal space” at all times. This was new, it felt weird, but definitely not wrong and Dean didn’t even think of complaining at this point.

“Where did you get that from?” he questioned, and the older Winchester could have sworn that Castiel muttered something along the lines of “I learned that from the pizza man” under his breath as he turned his head away in embarrassment. Dean was about to pull him closer when he started to doubt this situation. He didn’t deserve this kindness from someone who almost died because of him. Those rough, scarred hands he was about to wrap around Castiel’s back were the same hands that held the angel blade that could have killed him.

Dean thought about letting go, apologizing and asking his angel to leave because he felt so damn guilty, but as if Cas had read his mind, he leaned in to the touch even further with a sincere smile and that adorable head tilt that somehow managed to bring the message across. Castiel still trusted him, even after all he had done, maybe even _because_ he had done and regretted those things, so Dean decided it was time to trust himself and his own actions too, at least a bit. Finally, he returned the embrace.

 

The hunter had a habit of blaming himself for everything, for bottling up his emotions and for lying to himself, especially when it came to his true feelings. But slowly, Cas had somehow managed to crack him open and tear that façade down, one step at a time. Their relationship, he had to admit, had a good effect on his mental health after all the trouble he and his brother had been through. It was slowly healing his wounds, not only the ones he had all over his body because of countless fights, but mostly the metaphorical scars that covered his soul.

He wasn’t the one to get emotional. Rule number one for Winchester conversation: no chick flick moments. No sentimental outbreaks, no deep conversations on emotional basis and no crying. Still Dean couldn’t hold back the single tear that left his eye and ran down his cheek. In attempt to hide his embarrassing situation, he turned his head away and quickly wiped it off with the back of the hand that wasn’t buried in Castiel’s trenchcoat right now.

Castiel, of course, wondered about this unusual behaviour because couldn’t quite understand how Dean felt. Even though he had learned a lot about human emotions since he met the Winchester brothers, he was sometimes as clueless as on the first day on earth. Despite all the questions he had, the angel remained silent, because he could clearly see that he had instinctively done the right thing, Dean enjoyed this, and, whatever it was, he wanted to keep it up as long as possible. If it helped him, Cas was fine with standing there for hours, just to bring the hunter at least a fraction of the happiness he deserved. Maybe, _maybe_ he would understand some day, or he would just ask Dean about this when they met again, but now was not the time for an explanatory discussion.

 

Dean took a final deep breath before he stepped back and looked to the floor, still a bit overwhelmed and confused by the things that happened in the past few minutes. But he was okay, he felt okay, he didn’t feel like falling apart at any second anymore. He could think straight again. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and looked up into Castiel’s eyes that were focussed on him with what looked like a mixture of interest, astonishment and relief. Bad decision. _Very_ bad decision. He seemed to get lost in the bright, blue color.

“Cas?” It sounded nothing like his usual voice.

“Thank you.”

 

Castiel’s smile widened, that damn contagious smile, his expression reminded Dean of the time where the angel would talk about honeybees and the importance of lipstick, and suddenly there was a smirk on his lips too.

Sadly, the beautiful moment only lasted for another few seconds before Castiel announced “I must go back now and inform Sam that you’re alright. He was considerably worried about you and we are still doing our best to find a way in order to remove the mark of Cain. If you…” The angel stopped when he saw the look on the hunter’s face.

“Cas, could you please keep this a secret? I’m… not ready to face my brother yet” he lied, because if he told Castiel about his true intentions, he would probably never leave him alone. Hell, if he found out about his plan, he would get angry, overprotective and try to convince him at all costs. But Dean had made his decision and he didn’t want anyone to interfere, didn’t want anyone else to suffer because of him. He swallowed.

Would Cas believe him?

“Alright then,” came the hesitant reply and Dean exhaled audibly in relief, “I won’t tell Sam. But you have to promise to come back soon.”

“I promise.” Another lie. This wasn’t making it any easier for Dean to wave goodbye as Cas disappeared in front of his eyes. There he stood, alone in the chaotic motel room. “I won’t be able to keep that last promise” were his final thoughts as he took his keys out of his back pocket and placed them on the bed with a hand-written note to his brother.

Dean didn’t allow himself to think about the worry in Castiel’s eyes, he didn’t allow himself to think about how both the angel and his brother would miss him, he didn’t allow himself to remember the warmth of that hug. But he did allow one single tear to run down his cheek before he wiped it away with the back of his hand. 

 

He forced himself to smile- maybe in the end, not everything had been so bad.


End file.
